"Oh today I'm just a drop of water
And I'm running down a mountainside
Come tomorrow I'll be in the ocean
I'll be rising with the morning tide."
-"Start of Time", Gabrielle Aplin
"This," says Castiel, "is Jack."
The angels, dozens of them, stare skeptically at them. Castiel managed to summon the higher-ranking angels, but Jack has to admit that it's not looking good. He can sense the void amongst them, the void where Chuck used to be. The uncertainty and the doubt is palpable.
"It's true, isn't it?" says one of the angels, cloaked in a young man's body. "God is dead?"
"God is…not dead," says Castiel, holding his hands up defensively. "The man who had all of the power of God no longer has that power. So like I was saying…this is Jack. Jack is…" Castiel glances at Jack, and in that moment's hesitation, the angels sense weakness.
"The Nephilim?" says one angel sharply. She looks on the verge of laughing. "The son of Lucifer himself? Don't play games, Castiel…"
"We heard the rumors," says another, "but they were all too ridiculous to believe. Don't take us for fools."
"I speak the truth," says Castiel. "Jack is…" Again, he falters. Jack gives him a nod and Castiel continues, "Jack is in charge now."
"Says who?" says another angel. "Says you?"
"Says the world," says Castiel, his voice growing passionately. "Jack saved the world. He saved the cosmos. You owe all of your lives to him."
"So Jack is God now?"
Jack steps forward with his right hand raised. Although there is an air of skepticism in the air, the angels fall silent immediately, and he knows at that moment that they are afraid of him. He lowers his hand slowly, trying to keep the tension down.
"I'm not God," says Jack. "I'm just me. But Chuck—the man who had all of the power of God—is no longer in this story. That power is with me now. And I'm…I'm here to help."
"You were the one who changed Heaven?" says one of the angels. Jack nods. She does not seem upset; rather, her eyes are wide with admiration. "And you've been with the Winchesters this entire time?"
"I have," says Jack. "They are my family."
This garners a mix of reactions. Jack sometimes forgets that the Winchesters aren't popular with every celestial being. Sometimes he forgets that Castiel's loyalty to them isn't a measure of all angels.
"Well, what do you want us to do?" says a rougher looking angel in a suit and a well-trimmed beard. "Do you expect us to just blindly follow a self-professed Winchester?"
"Like you blindly followed God?" challenges Castiel.
"I expect," presses Jack, "you and all of your brothers and sisters to keep the peace. I don't need anyone to—to worship me. But I do need protection for the world, warriors who do good on behalf of humanity. Can you do that for me?"
He's won more of them over now. There's a collective murmur of agreement, but he knows that it's not enough.
"I'm trying to make things right," says Jack earnestly. "For people and for angels. I fixed Heaven with the help of Castiel. Heaven now is more than just a place to relive memories. And I'll help the angels like I helped the world…starting with the Empty. I'm going to make things right there, too."
He has them all now.
Jack senses Castiel's slight hesitancy beside him, but the angel doesn't make any obvious expressions.
"You can alter the Empty?" asks another angel, an older man with the clothes of a garbage truck worker. "Not even God could do that."
"I have before," says Jack. "I've rescued Castiel from the Empty more than once."
Castiel nods. "It's true."
"So," says Jack, with all eyes firmly on him, "are you with me?"
Castiel and Jack stand on the front door landing of John and Mary Winchester's house for the second time. Before they knock, Castiel turns to Jack.
"You did great back there, Jack," he says. "They'll follow you. I know they will."
"Follow me," mutters Jack. "You know, Cass, in a way…I miss the time when I was following others."
Castiel gives him a rueful smile and raps a few times on the front door. There's a shout of glee from inside followed by a clicking of glasses. "Well, if this doesn't take your mind off things, I don't know what will."
The door flies open.
It's Dean. He's wearing a bright red apron and holding a tray of slightly-burnt cookies. Behind him and down the hall, Jack can hear a few more voices.
"Gang's here!" shouts Dean. He moves aside so Jack and Castiel can come in. "I would say you're late, but I don't really know what that means anymore." He lets out a bellowed laugh.
Jack and Castiel move into the home. It smells like Thanksgiving dinner and ale. There's classic rock music playing from somewhere, and a moment later, he hears Dean singing it. They enter into the kitchen where John, Mary, and Sam are standing about. There's a few pots and pans on the stove and something in the oven. To Jack's surprise, his stomach growls. Now that he thinks of it, he can't remember the last time he ate anything.
"Cass! Jack!" says Sam. He bounds over and wraps them each in a big hug.
"It's nice to see you, Sam," says Castiel. "Thank you for inviting us."
"Not that you need an invitation," says Mary, as she swoops down and kisses the tops of both of their heads. Jack still isn't used to this younger version of Mary, but he accepts her embrace gratefully.
"Now Jack," she says, her eyes gleaming. "What have you been up to?"
No one is really focused on the conversation—the air is so light and worry-free that it's almost like floating—but Jack still feels Castiel's eyes on him.
"Oh, a few fixes here and there," says Jack. "Nothing new."
Although lying has been something that Jack has found to be unnatural, he understands why it's necessary. However, it doesn't make it any easier.
"I see," says Mary. The way she is looking at him makes him feel like she is reading his mind. "And you, Cass?"
"Convening with the angels, Mary," says Castiel. "There's somewhat of a power vacuum right now, and we were making sure that it's filled by the right person."
A beer suddenly appears in front of Jack's face, and he takes it out of habit even though he probably won't drink it.
"Jack's got it all taken care, don't you, Jack?" says Dean. "He's top dog! Commander in chief! You tell those angels."
"Yes, I am working with them," says Jack. "It's going well, so far."
The six of them share a few drinks and pass back and forth a few conversations that serve mostly as a time waster before dinner is served. Dean puts a half-burnt cookie on everyone's napkin "so they don't get cold", while the plates are piled high with pulled pork, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and macaroni salad. Castiel picks at his food, and every once in a while, Jack sees him take a bite and swallow. He's gotten extremely good at fake-enjoying food. Jack eats as much as he can, but the truth is that, even though he's hungry, his stomach feels small from stress. The three Winchester men inhale the food that's in front of them, and even when a dish runs out, they seem to magically replenish itself without anyone having to get up from the table.
"I'm telling you," says Dean, towards the end of the meal, "this is the life."
"Or the death," says Sam.
"The what?"
"You know, 'cause we're technically dead," explains Sam. He shakes his head. "It's not important—"
"Yeah, but death is life now," says Dean, leaning back luxuriously in his chair. Sam raises his eyebrows at him. "Oh, you know what I mean!"
"Whatever you say, Master Yoda," jokes Sam.
"You did good Jack," says Dean. "I know I've already said it, and I'll say it a million more times, but you really did good. Hell, I don't even really know how long it's been up here, but I know it's real, and I know it's what we deserve. After everything."
Jack forces himself to smile. What can he say? That there's still a hoard of evil swirling through planet Earth? That he doesn't know if it's possible for him to be all-powerful without interfering? That there's a voice in his head that he can't control? Castiel is looking at him closely, and Jack gives him a half nod, just as a reassurance. No use worrying Castiel more than he already is.
"Thank you for the dinner," says Jack to John and Mary.
"You're always welcome here," says John kindly.
Jack scoots away from the table. "Well, I don't want to overstay my welcome."
"You just got here, man!" says Dean. "Stay for a while! Have a beer!"
But Jack rises to his feet. "Thank you," he says, "but I have some things I have to take care of."
"I told you," says Dean to the rest of them. "He's top-dog."
"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" says Castiel. The real question in his voice is undetectable, but Jack can see it in his eyes.
"Next time I'll stay longer, I promise," he says.
"Cass, you're sticking around for a while, right?" asks Dean.
Castiel's eyes move from Jack to Dean. "Of course," he says finally.
Jack gives them all one last smile and a wave, before turning around and walking through the hallway and out the front door. He swings the door shut behind him and is ten paces out into the wilderness of Heaven when he hears the door open again.
"Jack?"
Footsteps, then a hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, Jack turns around.
It's Sam.
"Hey," says Sam, "I just wanted to, you know, make sure you're good and everything. You seemed…well, honestly, you seemed a little off in there."
Jack moves to turn away from him. "I'm fine, Sam. You don't have to worry—"
Sam's hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks again. "If worrying me is a concern of yours, you can stop now. We're past that, Jack."
"I'm fine."
"Jack."
Sam has always been able to tell if something is troubling Jack. And he's always been able to make Jack feel better. When no one was there to believe in Jack, Sam fought for him. Sam believed in him. But now is different. Jack isn't the kid that Sam took under his wing anymore. And as much as he sometimes wished he still was, there is no denying that things have changed. Things have forever changed.
"You won't understand," says Jack. "Nobody can understand."
Sam furrows his brow. "Are you in trouble? In danger?"
Jack looks up into Sam's concerned eyes, the ones that have seen him rise and fall, win and fail, over and over. He thinks about what would happen if he tells Sam about the voice in his head, about how much it frightens him to know that something is able to remove him from his own consciousness, and that he has no way of knowing what it is. He imagines what Sam would say, what Sam would do in order to make sure that Jack is alright. And he can't do it.
"No, I'm not in trouble," he says, looking down. "But…"
"But…what?"
Jack struggles to find the words. "I'm trying," he says, and he's ashamed to hear his voice break with emotion. "I'm trying to make things right. Fixing Heaven, leading the angels. I'm trying to make the right decisions. I'm trying not to be like Chuck."
Sam is listening intently, giving Jack the permission to keep going. And then suddenly, it all comes out like a flood.
"I can make all of the bad on Earth disappear—no monsters, no evil, no disease, no pain. With a snap of my fingers, I can do it. I can make paradise on Earth, but…"
Sam's eyes dart back and forth between Jack's. "But what?"
"I just have this feeling," says Jack, feeling his throat tearing with his efforts to stay in control. "I can't explain it…it's an instinct, deep in my bones—balance. There needs to be darkness in order for there to be light. There must be evil for there to be good. If I disrupt that balance, it'll be…unnatural. I know this…I don't know how I know it. I believe what I said before, that I shouldn't interfere. But at the same time, I don't believe it. Why does it matter if it's not natural? If I have the power to stop it, then I should stop it, right? If I could make it better and I don't…what kind of God am I? How can I feel both things at the same time?"
Sam is silent for a short while, thinking. "Jack," he says finally, "you've already done so much. Rebuilding Heaven, making sure there's a place for humanity to go to that is safe and…well, perfect. That's what it is here, Jack. It's perfect."
"So…you don't think I should interfere?"
"That's not what I mean," says Sam slowly. "I'm not telling you to leave things as they are or to tear up the instruction manual. I guess I'm just hoping you won't be so hard on yourself. You've done so much good. You are good, Jack."
"But what would you do?" asks Jack forcefully. "If you had all the power in the universe…what would you do?"
Sam gives him a long look. "I don't know, Jack," he says, resignedly.
"No," says Jack, shaking his head, "tell me. You know. What would you do?"
"I'd…" Sam puts his hands on his hips, gazes at the house where his parents and brother are. "I would ask. I would ask someone who knows me better than anyone else knows me, someone who I can trust to tell me the truth rather than what I want to hear. Someone who won't let me down. Jack…I think you know who to talk to."
And Jack does. The answer comes so clearly to him that he can't believe he didn't think of it before.
"Will you give her my love?" asks Sam.
For the first time in a while, Jack feels wholly optimistic. "You'll be able to tell her yourself," he says. "In time." He puts a hand on Sam's arm. "Thank you, Sam."
Then without hesitation, the Winchester house disappears from view, and Jack finds himself somewhere entirely new. It's not a place filled with evergreens and a dirt road like where he came from. This place is by a waterfall as tall as any Jack has ever seen. At the base of the waterfall is a modest house, a cottage, surrounded by colorful flowers and foliage. It's more garden than house, and Jack finds himself walking as if in a dream through the forest of plants. It smells like roses and honeysuckle and rosemary. A whole ecosystem of color.
And then he sees her.
She is sitting in a patch of blue grass in front of the doorstep in a blue dress, with a journal and a pen on her lap, and she is writing away. Her beauty is breathtaking. And all at once Jack feels like a little boy, like a child that needs caring for. Like a son. At the sound of his footsteps, she looks up. Her face erupts in a huge smile.
"Jack," she whispers.
"Mom."
Then he weeps.
Thanks for reading this far! I hope you're enjoying where this is going. New chapter up soon!